From my left hand, another mote of Hellfire sprang. As I had done a hundred times before, I used the two Hellfire sparks to form a large circle of roiling flame. This time, however, I formed the circle of fire a meter in the air instead of on the ground. I also limited the strength of the fire, making the band of Hellfire resemble a writhing, yellow snake. The defensive band of Hellfire only required the use of two sparks, so I was able to exert much more control on the flame.

By the time my defensive band was up, only one of Beltane’s zombies remained. Half of the orcish horde focused on the surviving zombie, and the other half approached Beltane and me. As a dozen orcs approached us, the band of Hellfire flared up like a threatened prey animal. The sudden conflagration interrupted the orcs’ charge, and they stopped in their tracks before any of them were burned.

Beltane grabbed my shoulder and led me to one of the orcs he had killed a few minutes before. As soon as the dead orc was within the circle of fire, Beltane knelt and transformed it into a zombie. With a command from Beltane, the zombie charged forward. The band of fire split as the zombie rushed past.

With the help of my Hellfire, we regained the initiative. We soon reached a point where Beltane was creating zombies faster than the orcs could kill them. The zombies would kill the orcs, giving Beltane more bodies to create more zombies.

This was the power of Necromancy. As long as you didn’t run out of mana and your zombies killed at least one enemy before dying, they were a renewable resource. Fights would quickly become a positive feedback loop in your favor.

This positive feedback loop was why Necromancers often used their powers irresponsibly. It was very tempting to create more zombies than you could control, and simply allow them to sow chaos among the enemy.

Within minutes, the battle was over. The orcs were defeated by the steady tide of powerful, unfeeling zombies. Once silence descended once more upon the battlefield, my band of Hellfire receded, and Beltane grabbed his forehead in pain.

All that remained on the battlefield were Beltane, me, three dozen orcish corpses, and five inert zombies. Beltane bore an expression of acute pain, as if he was suffering from a terrible migraine.

“Too much… mana…” Beltane said, squinting in pain. “I’m… all out.”

I wasn’t surprised. He had used [Call Storm] once and [Create Zombie] ten times. Those spells were incredibly mana intensive. This was incredibly bad timing for him to run out of mana, however. I still had to get to Feldrast Manor, and he was the only person present with enough power to fight through another horde of orcs.

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“Is there anything you can do to regain mana?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah,” Beltane said with a pained expression. As he spoke, he slowly removed one of his many rings. “It will take me out of commission for a few minutes, but I can do it.”

“Get to it, then,” I said, my voice harsher than I intended. “I’ll move ahead to Feldrast Manor. You can catch up after your Mana Revival.”

“That’s a bad idea,” Beltane said with a frown, “but I see that I can’t stop you. Just promise me that you’ll choose your life over your healing potential.”

“I promise,” I said as I started walking toward Feldrast Manor. “I am ready to violate the oath of nonviolence if necessary.”

As I turned the corner on my route back home, I heard Beltane’s voice from where I had just come. He was screaming in pain, as if some torturer was pulling the nails out of his hand. Mana Revival was an extremely painful process. The mage undergoing it would be rendered completely unable to do anything for sixty seconds by the torturous, all-consuming pain.

Miraculously, I did not run into any more orcs on my walk to Feldrast Manor. I reached the front garden within about ninety seconds. As I walked, conjured rain began to fall from the sky. It started as a light drip and turned into a steady drizzle within seconds.

As I turned the corner into the front garden, all my worst fears were confirmed. Much of the garden was torn up by dozens of heavy feet striding in unison. Near the door, more than a dozen orcish corpses littered the garden where roses and lilacs had been an hour before.

The orcs had all been killed with some long-bladed weapon. They had clearly all met Sir Walter out here and immediately met their end. One of the orcs was lying in the threshold to the manor, preventing the door from closing.

I walked through the open door and found a dozen more orcish corpses inside. Many of the corpses laid in a semi-circle in the center of the main foyer. The whole room was stained a dark red, which stood in contrast against the light red of House Feldrast.

I looked around frantically, terrified that I would find a human corpse among the dozens of dead orcs. With a sigh of relief, I saw that the only things littering the floor were orcish corpses, blood, guts, and weapons.

Sir Walter must have stopped here for a while to hold off the orcs. It was not a last-stand, at least, as Walter’s body did not lay amongst the invaders.

The trail of orcish corpses continued up the stairs, however, so they must have made it deeper into the manor. I slowly made my way up the stairs, making sure to step over any fallen corpses as I did so.

I walked down one of the second-floor hallways. Another dozen orcs laid dead on the ground, and many laid in a semi-circular pile about half-way through the hall. After this semi-circle, the trail of corpses suddenly stopped. A smile formed on my face as I looked around seeing only orcish corpses on the ground.

My smile disappeared just as I turned the corner into another hallway. I took a few steps into this hall before seeing a figure slumped off to one side of the hall.

With his sword still in his hand, Sir Walter sat with his back to the wall. Blood pooled below him, and his hand laid against a deep wound in his midsection.

At a glance, I could tell that he was already dead.